


the very small me, such a big scar

by deaneatscake



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cas lives, Castiel in the Bunker, Dean is angry, Getting Together, M/M, contains mentions of depression self harm and overall shitty behaviour, it's really dark, so read with caution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 14:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12632628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deaneatscake/pseuds/deaneatscake
Summary: If anyone had asked Dean before, he would have said that Cas coming back was all he ever wanted. But as it turns out, things are still a shit show and Dean wasn’t Dean if he knew how to cope with that.





	the very small me, such a big scar

**Author's Note:**

> This probably has to be my darkest fic yet but that makes sense because *Dean* is in a very dark place but yeah, it's definitely... something. But I thought it was worth to write it and maybe it is also worth to read it. I say it again, mention of depression, self harm, unhealthy coping mechanisms (aka alcohol), Dean being an all around dick and also he's kind of suicidal, although that takes a back seat and is only mentioned in passing and not as a concrete thought. But you've been warned.  
> Title of the fic comes from the song [Broken by Nell](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKtz96EnMF4). [Translation](https://popgasa.com/2017/07/25/nell-broken-%EB%B6%80%EC%84%9C%EC%A7%84/).

/

“You know, you could have at least called.”

Cas is sitting in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand and a book on the table, looking up confused when he hears Dean’s words.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asks.

“You could have  _called_ ,” Dean repeats. “You just expected me to – what? Be an idiot and have the angel warding down because I – because I –” He can’t even bring himself to say it. Because I hoped you would come back. It’s not true anyway, it’s not  _his_  fault Sam didn’t manage to get all the warding up again after they blasted through the bunker –

“Dean, I’m not sure what –” Cas starts but Dean’s tired, and they’ve had these arguments before, and Cas was always  _not sure_  and he never  _knew_  and Jesus – why is he even doing this.

“Just make sure you put your feathery ass to use and buy some more coffee, you’re chucking it down and there’s nothing to drink left for me,” Dean says as he turns around to go back to his room where three bottles of Whiskey are already waiting for him, but that’s not Cas’ fucking business to know, is it.

Thank God Cas doesn’t try to call him back because – because – well, he wouldn’t even know what to  _do_  then.

/

Cas comes back when they’re home from their latest hunt – bruised and battered because Dean’s not just in the game anymore (he blames it on being tired from looking after the spawn of Satan, but they both know better). Jack’s already back in his room – Sam had almost had to carry him bridal style because that kid needed more sleep than an average human should need – and Sam’s also nowhere to be found so Dean figures he can rummage around the cabinets in the kitchen in peace, trying to find a stray bottle of Jack that Jesus fucking Christ had to be there  _somewhere_.

He doesn’t find a thing but when he turns around to raid his room, Cas is – there. And it’s not like Dean hasn’t  _thought_ about this – or hallucinated it when he had a few glasses too many – but confronted with this reality (and he knows it’s true, he just…  _knows_ ) he’s at a loss what to do until Cas’ strong arms embrace him, almost crush him, and he doesn’t even smell any different and his stubble is the same and it’s –

It’s everything he ever wanted. For a sweet short moment, it’s his own personal heaven right here on Earth and he’d bet his ass that when he died, his heaven would contain this scene in every possible angle and high definition.

“Cas,” he croaks as he buries his head on Cas’ shoulder. There’s silence, but not an uncomfortable one, as they stand there in the kitchen and Dean hopes that Sam doesn’t come in, no – better, that no one  _ever_ comes in and they can just freeze in time because if he absolutely  _has_ to die for good one day, it should be this one.

/

In the end, Dean didn’t get what he wanted, and he never really wanted it in the first place but he still feels like he lost something; sure, he didn’t actually want to die right there but the… restlessness that settles in gets him.

Of course Sam comes back into the kitchen and of course Jack senses that his guardian is back and then they’re around the kitchen table and even though his cheeks still burn a bit from Cas’ stubble he feels further away from him than ever before. He blames it on the shock and tries to join in,  _oohs_ and  _aahs_  at the appropriate moment when Cas tells his story (and he’s proud of him, he really fucking is, but he can’t help but ask himself why Cas chose to come back – not to Earth, mind you, but to the bunker because really, they aren’t that great, he –  _he_  isn’t that great).

After that it kind of dies down and it’s Sam that pats Cas on the back and tells him to “rest, you’ve earned it” and sure he  _does_ but Dean still feels betrayed when Cas takes him up on that offer and all but runs away to the stupid guest room.

He makes a mental note to prepare a proper room because if Cas is here to stay then he should get one. The big question here, of course, is: what  _is_  Cas here for? And fuck if Dean can figure that out.

/

Dean’s back from a trip to the hardware store (Cas had envied Dean’s shelf over his bed for ages, okay) when he sees Cas working on one of the old cars, two fucking days after he rose from the dead and something short-circuits in Dean.

“What are you doing?” He can barely restrain himself from shouting, can barely stop himself from shoving Cas right back under the car frame he rolls out from –  _if you want to go fucking_ _ **go**_ _, build your shitty car, you don’t know shit about it but try, fucking try to get out of here, see if I care_ –

“I was working on this car,” Cas states the fucking obvious.

“I can see that,” Dean says. “Why are you doing it? This isn’t your car.”

Cas frowns. “I know, but –”

“But what?”

The following seconds are possibly the longest in his life. “Well, I need a car,” Cas says, “And Sam said I could just choose one in the garage. It has a tape player.”

Dean feels like he just got sucker punched but from what, he doesn’t even know. Cas is the king of conflicting messages and Dean’s not the king of asking for clarification, so he just shakes his hand, balls his fists and decides to retreat.

“Do you want to –” Cas starts to stay but then Dean’s knuckles crack from the sheer force with which he’s holding himself together, and what follows is a “Never mind.”

Which, honestly, probably is best for both of them.

/

If there was a prize pool for punching as many things as fast as he can, Dean would probably get it all. He isn’t picky either – he loves to punch, he loves to shoot, he loves to dig his fingernails so hard into his palm that it draws blood, and he gets to do it plenty.

It’s like something has awakened in him, some kind of monster that tells him all sort of things, lies and truths and he can’t figure out which one it is most of the time. The thing is, the monster supplies him with plenty of reasons why Cas is here but also, more importantly, why Cas is going to go. And he  _is_  going to go because that’s the way things are – and while Dean has never thought himself to be well-adjusted, he also was never so devastated over the prospect of letting Cas go again.

(Well, not  _letting him go_  because this isn’t some kind of Jane Austen novel, this was  _reality_  and in this reality, Cas doesn’t fucking need his approval to storm off to God knows where.)

The monster needs to be fed and since Dean can’t possibly punish Cas for something he hasn’t even done yet – and someone he shouldn’t even want to punish because Cas is a free man, angel, whatever – he punishes himself.

It works, kind of, barely.

/

“You teaching the kid to binge watch or what?” Dean asks when he finds Jack and Cas sitting in the war room in the exact same position where they’ve been seven hours before – it’s not like Dean’s counted, but well, his own show also only runs so long.

He wonders what they’re watching, wonders if he could ask them that, but – no. They would have told him if they cared, right?

“It’s very fun,” Jack says. “Sam always told me that I was only supposed to watch one movie at once.”

“Yeah well, he’s probably right about that. Listen to Uncle Sam,” Dean says absentmindedly as he pours himself another whiskey from the cabinet. He doesn’t even have enough strength to laugh at his own joke, and no one else does it either.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says and it’s so out of place that Dean’s tempted to down the entire glass of whiskey at once. “And yes, I am teaching him – some things.” There’s an unspoken accusation in here somewhere (and it’s probably justified; Sam must have told him how he treated Jack).

“ _Great_ ,” Dean says at the threshold to the hallway. “Have fun.”

/

Cas is in room 15 again. As it turns out, room 10 is shit – the faucet there’s leaky (and since Cas doesn’t sleep it grates on him, as he says), the wooden floor is squeaking and it’s barely big enough to fit a bed in there, let alone some other furniture.

Realistically Dean knows that he could put Cas anywhere but the thing is, the other suitable rooms aren’t near his room and Jesus,  _can’t he have one thing for once_?

So the guest room it is.

/

Sleep barely comes and when it does, nightmares are in tow – but not the regular kind of nightmares, no, but the kind of  _Cas leaves or dies or melts into a puddle of Leviathan goo_  or worst of all, _Cas tells he doesn’t love Dean – because really, who could – and then he leaves._

If anyone had asked Dean before, he would have said that Cas coming back was all he ever wanted. But as it turns out, things are still a shit show and Dean wasn’t Dean if he knew how to cope with that. So he turns to alcohol since it’s his only option expect it makes things even  _worse_ , and when Cas looks at him with that – that sad, disapproving face, Dean pours what’s left of the bottle into the sink before emptying his stomach into it too, because what gives, right?

Cas is still in the doorway when Dean realizes that his nose is dangerously close to the yellow fluid that’s probably a mix of stomach acid and Whiskey, and when he tries to free himself from the grip of the sink – no wait, that’s wrong,  _he’s_  gripping the sink isn’t he, he shouldn’t have to  _free_  himself – there are strong arms around him again and the world is in balance again, at least for a short moment until Cas heaves him onto his bed and everything starts to swim.

“Hey,” Cas says softly as he wipes Dean’s nose. Shit, he was closer to his own puke than he thought. That probably was a metaphor for something, if his foggy brain just would fucking go to work –

“Just dandy,” Dean whispers. Cas had asked a question, right?

“Dean, I’m –” Cas says but then Dean leans over to puke on the floor, and Cas sighs. “This was a mistake.”

And sure it was, how could Cas even think it was a good idea, to come back to  _him_ , and he didn’t just take Jack and go like every sensible person would expect of course he could do, any time now, especially now since Dean’s pretty sure he hit Cas’ shoes.

“I should have put a bucket here,” Cas continues and oh, that makes sense too, or does it? Dean doesn’t have time to mull over it because he passes out.

/

Cas never gets to see that shelf because what use would it be in the guest room? And when Dean places it in his room – it’s not like Cas goes there anymore.

He spends his time in the war room with Jack or in the garage to fix up whatever car he chose – Dean forgot, or at least pretends to whenever Sam wants to talk about him about some spare parts or whatever – and that’s  _great_ , isn’t it.

It proves that Cas isn’t here for him at least and that should be a relief expect it’s not; it’s his worst suspicions validated and it makes him sick.

One day, he catches himself wishing that Cas had just stayed dead, because really, it boils down to that – a fond memory instead of the constant reminder what a fucking disappointment Dean is (it’s not like Cas cares about gender, does he, and if Dean was a better person he could – he could have been something for Cas, but he isn’t, he’s  _nothing_ ).

At least when Cas was dead he had those dreams, of him coming back and Dean kissing the shit out of him, and Cas  _reciprocating_  where there’s now only darkness. He should be able to deal with it better because he’s dealt with it before but… it’s not the same. Cas was gone and he chose to come back but not – not because he loves Dean. And it’s absurd, it’s petty, but Dean wishes he hasn’t come back at all.

/

Two weeks later and Sam notices. It’s funny, kind of, because Sam rarely notices stuff about Dean, especially not now since he’s occupied with the not-so-much-hell kid and also because he’s stuck with helping Cas.

But the fact that Dean is rushing through two bottles of Whiskey a day and doesn’t even bother to bandage his bloody knuckles anymore (he just ruins the bandages anyway – the wood for the shelf is splitting way too easily, and the splinters get stuck in the gauze and then it all gets worse and –) might have clued even Sam in.

Dean’s on his bed, listening to whatever mix YouTube is giving him – honestly, he doesn’t care anymore – when Sam takes a chair and puts it up next to his bedside table like he’s visiting a fucking patient in the hospital.

“Dean,” he starts before taking a deep breath. “Dean, we need to talk.”

“Sammy, I appreciate your concern, but I know everything about the birds and bees already,” Dean retorts and for best effect, he shows Sam the porn website that has been open in the background for days now – not that he cared to do anything with it.

As anticipated, Sam sighs and shakes his head and Dean’s almost sure he’s going to go when Sam looks at him again.

“You have to do something about Cas,” Sam says which – great, he had to play babysitter for the child of Satan and now he has to play babysitter with Cas too? Cas, who doesn’t even fucking want anyone to care about him?

He doesn’t even dignify it with a response (unless of course downing a whole glass of whiskey counts as an answer).

“I thought you’d be happy to get him back but instead you’re just making him feel bad. Every day. And it’s not just – you’re being unfair to him. And that’s coming from me, Dean,” Sam says earnestly.

/

“Jesus Cas, if you’re staying here you should at least  _contribute_  something,” Dean hisses as he watches Cas take the very last coffee.

Cas raises his eyebrows. “You said you were going to go on a run tomorrow –”

“And that would have been sufficient if you didn’t down this shit like it’s promising you something,” Dean says (and thank God Cas doesn’t comment on the irony, on the half-full bottle of Whiskey in his hand).

“I’m sorry,” Cas says but it’s not enough.

“Oh, you’re sorry, that’s great, but what gives? Are you going to buy me some more coffee? No, because you don’t have a fucking job or fucking money and you don’t even have an ID anymore since I fucking  _burned your last_!”

“I was –”

“And we can’t go on stupid hunts because you’re busy with the Antichrist! And shit, we don’t even know if your powers work properly, if you could even  _go_  with us –” Not that you’d want to, Dean wants to add, when Cas tosses the coffee cup on the counter so hard it breaks.

“My powers are working perfectly fine!” Cas hisses. “In fact, I’m going to use them to buy this coffee right  _now_ , since you seem to have such a mighty  _need_  for it!”

The coffee continues to drop down on the floor as Dean stands in the kitchen, frozen in time, unable to do anything or at least stop his sobbing.

/

“I’m not,” Dean says. “He knew what he had coming.” And it may be the alcohol because in his head, this makes perfect sense but Sam doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“Had  _what_  coming? Dean, he came back to us – to  _you_  – and all you ever did was snapping at him and telling him he isn’t welcome –”

“I never said that,” he snaps because this is not true, it  _isn’t_ , he wants Cas to stay, the problem is that  _Cas_  doesn’t want –

“Well, but you definitely tried to show him. Dean, you told him he’s  _useless_  because he drank the last bit of coffee. You don’t even drink anything other than alcohol and a glass of water with some pills in it lately.”

“Thanks, Dr. Phil. How much do you charge for an hour? You at least brought me some meds or what?”

Sam just sighs and leaves, so at least Dean gets one thing he wants.

/

Dean’s on his way to the store –  _again_ , because Cas can’t be bothered to put an appropriate amount of coffee powder into the fucking machine – when he sees Cas looking at…  _his_  car in approval.

“You finished?” Dean grunts.

“Yes,” Cas says absentmindedly. “I improved a few things here and there – it’s actually quite interesting what you can do when you have –”

“Cool story, buddy,” Dean says as he unlocks the door. “Well, you know where the exit is.”

“Exit?”

“Yes. Exit. To go. Leave. Hit the road. Whatever.”

There’s a brief flash of… something, on Cas’ face before he takes a step forward, effectively blocking Dean’s route.

“Leave? Why should I leave?”

He shouldn’t push, he knows he shouldn’t, and he grips the door frame so tight he feels like it’s going to crumble every moment now, trying to put him on the track again, but –

“Well, that’s what you do, isn’t it? The circle of life.” Dean almost spits the word  _life_  because while Cas is back, this isn’t life, is it, at least not for Dean, and it’s a disgrace to call it that way.

And this time Dean can see it clearly, Cas is  _hurt_ , but he gladly takes it because if it makes Cas leave even sooner, so be it.

“Why should I –” Cas repeats before shaking his head. “No, it’s okay. It’s – I get it. You want me to go. I should have figured that I’m –”

“That’s – I never said that.” The door to the Impala is still open, sitting there forgotten, and although one part of him wants nothing more than to leave himself, the other wants to do the more destructive part of fight or flight.

“Well, you don’t have to say it, you basically spelled it out with fluorescent letters. And I get, it makes sense that I should go.”

And that’s – of course that’s what Cas thinks, of course he thinks he should go, and Dean can’t have that although he knows he’s fighting a lost battle here –

“I never said you should go! I  _need_  you here,” Dean screams.

And that’s where Cas snaps – pulling out his angel blade and for a short, nonsensical moment Dean is sure that Cas is going to kill him (and maybe  _that’s_  what he needs, for all the pain to stop, and he sure as hell  _deserves_  it).

“I got that!” Cas screams back as he drops it on the floor. “Here – take it – take it, and if you want to take my Grace too, I’m sure it’ll come in handy, and then let me go.”

Dean’s chest tightens. “What the fuck do you mean?” he asks, almost gasping, because he sure as hell can’t breathe right now to save his life.

“You know what I mean. Take it. I’m sorry if I forgot something. What else do you want? Strategic plans? I can provide that. Or you want to tie me up, put me in the trunk with all your other weapons? Though I hate to tell you, I can’t  _leave_ that way.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you? Dean, are you – are you playing this dumb or do you really not understand?” Cas turns around, his arms open. “That’s what I am, isn’t it? A walking, talking weapon? Maybe the Empty was right, but I – I wanted to at least try, but you don’t even  _let_  me –”

“I let you do everything!” Dean retorts. “You are free to go. I never – I never told you to do anything. If you want to go, go.” He points to the car, sitting there innocently.

“Dean,” Cas says, now almost eerily calm. He takes a step forward, right into Dean’s personal space, and although he’s shorter than him he still manages to look down on him. “I don’t want to go.”

And that’s it officially – every last breath has been sucked out of him His world is shattering, because that’s –  _of course_ Cas wants to go. This must be a ploy or a misunderstanding because yeah, Jack is still in the bunker so it makes sense –

“Dean, all I ever wanted was to be with you. That car – I just wanted to be of  _use_. Because that’s all you ever care about. You  _need_  me.”

“Of course I need you,” Dean whispers.

“Well, I don’t  _want_  to be needed. That’s – I’m – Dean, I’m sick of being used, of being a weapon, of being the handy little guy in the background to smite the things you can’t get rid of otherwise – I’m sick of you never being happy when I’m there, only looking for the next option to use me –”

“I don’t – Cas, I never want to  _use_  you.”

“But you do. And it’s – okay, I think. I guess. I’ve made my peace with it, that I never –” He looks at the car and shakes his head. “That I never get to have what I want with you, because you don’t feel the same way,” he finishes, finally, with a confidence that Dean has never seen in him.

The question  _what do you feel?_  is hanging there but Dean can’t say it – he’s too busy gasping for air.

“I love you,” Cas answers anyway and this time there’s no  _he meant everyone_  or  _we’re his family, of course he loves me_ , there’s no shabby excuse to ignore everything that’s been served to him on a silver platter. “And I – I understand that you don’t want that. Maybe I was foolish to think that I could just – stay here, with me feeling what I feel, because you resent it, and I should have seen it sooner –”

This is bullshit, Dean thinks, and “This is bullshit” he says.

Before Cas can frown and retort something, Dean hurries to continue: “I never wanted to – Jesus, Cas, the only way to get you to stay was to take your powers, your help, because you sure as hell wouldn’t stay otherwise. And I – I – don’t make me say it back, Cas, you know I can, but you know I do, and if you don’t think I do – if you didn’t think – then you’re stupid, and I’m stupid, and I –”

“You know, you could have at least asked.”

They’re standing there, in the brightly lit garage, Cas with an angel blade his hand, and Cas is making no sense –

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You could have asked,” Cas repeats. “Me to stay. I would have.”

/

Dean’s still angry but this time – this time, he has  _something_  to be angry about, and it’s years of denial and anger and heartbreak all pent up but in a good way – okay, maybe he had handled Cas a bit too rough, but he hasn’t complained if his moans were anything to go by.

The restlessness is gone and instead replaced with a focus, a goal, something he can work towards to without breaking up the skin of his knuckles every time Cas brushes against him in the hallway, and God – Dean’s well aware that this isn’t the end of his issues (it isn’t even the  _beginning_ ) but it’s – something, and it feels like it’s here to stay.

“Cas,” he whispers into the crook of his neck. They’ve stumbled over each other, teeth clashing, and there hasn’t been much talking involved ever since they got a hang of all of it but there’s – there’s still something he has to say.

“Please stay.”

“I love you,” Cas says again (and he was wrong, so wrong – if he ever has to die for good, then  _this_  is what he wants to die and wake up to, every day of his goddamn life and afterlife), “Of course I’m going to stay.”

/

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [tumblr](https://deaneatscake.tumblr.com/)  
> [reblobbable version](https://deaneatscake.tumblr.com/post/167136710468/the-very-small-me-such-a-big-scar-4180-words)


End file.
